Aftermath
by Peachuzoid
Summary: Trapped inside the boxcar, it was Carl who noticed first: Something was wrong with Daryl. (Or, where Daryl's injuries make themselves known and the group works together to escape the wrath of Terminus.)
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be more of a ramble than anything, but I figured I'd go ahead and put this out there. A prompt on the kinkmeme inspired me and here I am, way in over my head. It is very late and I should be in bed. And I should have waited to post this. Oh well, I guess. Enjoy?**

* * *

Any form of light was growing dimmer as the day slowly folded into night. The wind howled as it cut through the small cracks of the train car. A clash of thunder boomed in the distance, warning of an oncoming storm.

"I don't understand. What's the plan here?" Sasha got back on her feet, arms crossed.

Up until this point, train car A had been fairly silent. Not wanting to give away any meaningful information, or a plot devised against these people of Terminus. Everyone was growing impatient.

Rick placed a palm in the air, signaling for Sasha to lower her voice, knowing there had to be someone on guard close by. Probably more than one.

He got back on his feet as well. "I'm still trying to work through some things."

"Well, maybe you'd like to enlighten us on what these _plans_ of yours might consist of," Abraham started in.

And that simple line was what had everyone all worked up, back on their feet in an instant. Agitated. Pointing fingers and raising voices. Mostly between Abraham and Rick. The others joined in when it felt necessary to back who they believed.

It was Carl who noticed first. Realized that someone was missing from the fray. Someone who typically had something to say when the going got tough. And he was being remarkably quiet.

"Daryl?" Carl squinted in the looming darkness. He could make out Daryl's form sitting in the corner. But he didn't have his knees pulled up with his arms resting across them like he had earlier. No. He looked like he was unconscious.

Carl inched forward, got down on a knee beside him. Reached out and grabbed his jacket clad arm. It would have usually elicited some type of response, but this time he received nothing except silence.

"Guys!" Carl tried to yell over the commotion. "Guys, stop!"

It grabbed Michonne and Eugene's attention first. Then Tara's. Rick and Abraham were still going strong. Sasha, Rosita, Glenn, and Maggie were only seeming to fuel the fire at this point.

"Something's wrong with Daryl!"

Those words brought the train car right back to silence. How it had been for most of the time they had spent there so far.

"What do you mean? Was he shot?" Glenn stepped forward, his voice heavily laced with concern.

"But he was just fine?" Maggie furrowed her brow.

Michonne, having noticed Carl's cries for help before the lot of them, had already joined his side. She stooped beside Daryl, cupped his face. Examined his features.

She stood up straight and placed a hand to Carl's forehead, causing him to blink in confusion.

"He feels cool. Colder than Carl, definitely."

"Is he breathing?" Rick's voice was full of panic once he noticed Daryl sitting unconscious in the corner. He made his way back over to them, immediately taking a knee and searching for a pulse.

Without another word, Bob took the liberty to step forth and do what he could. Everyone made way for him as he situated himself beside Daryl.

"What happened?" Bob inquired. He looked to Rick for an explanation since Daryl had been with him, he looked a bit roughed up, and Rick was the closest in proximity of the three.

"He took some hard hits. Two against one." Rick rubbed his face. "That's the short version."

Bob checked Daryl's carotid pulse before working his jacket and shirt undone. He seemed to stare at his chest a moment before gingerly running a hand across Daryl's ribs. And since Bob had brought attention to it, there were some deep shades of purple splattered across Daryl's left side.

"His breathing is compromised," Bob concluded. "Not entirely, but enough. I don't think he's getting enough oxygen."

Rick crouched down, balancing his elbows on his knees as he held his own head. How had they not seen it before? Why hadn't Daryl said anything?

"What do we do?" Tara questioned.

And before anyone could reply, say or do anything else, Rick was back on his feet. He marched the short distance to the door and slammed his fist against it. Desperation had piqued:

"I know someone is out there! I know you can hear me! We need help! One in our group is hurt, and he's not breathing!"

Things seemed to be at a standstill. It was absolutely silent for the longest time. Thoughts were racing. What if Daryl ended up dying due to asphyxiation? He'd come back. They didn't have any of their weapons. They wouldn't _want_ to put him down, if it came to that.

Then there were muted mumbles, from outside the train car. Couldn't have been far. They had to have heard Rick's plea.

"Hey, assholes!" Tara's outburst half startled Rick as she pounded the palm of her hand against the metal. He was pleasantly surprised to see her put forth such an effort to help. "Open the door!"

There was another brief moment of silence followed by a heavy sigh. Some kind of metal clanked together. Most likely some sort of lock.

"Everyone get back, and don't try anything," a male voice warned through the door.

Seeing no point in arguing with that, everyone followed the order. They stepped back just as the door slid open, the grinding of metal on worn metal reverberating through the car.

There was a subtle click and a bright light that temporarily blinded everyone, footfalls belonging to two people, before they realized it was a flashlight. And it was soon trained on Daryl. His skin had already taken on a pale, sickly appearance.

"Just... stay put. We'll find some help for your friend."

The two men carrying AKs strapped around their torsos began to retreat. One had grabbed the handle to the door and initially yanked it to pull it shut. It moved, but not very fast.

"You're kidding, right?" Glenn stepped forward but threw his hands up into the air to show he meant no harm. "You can't just leave!"

A sudden hand reached out, body hidden from their view. Landed on the man's shoulder who held the door. And whatever happened between the newcomer and the men on guard, the door fully reopened.

"And wouldn't you know it." Gareth stepped out into the opening. "Help just arrived."


	2. Chapter 2

**Just wanted to add a quick note: I have fixed my tumblr page a bit and I will try to resort to keeping everyone updated through that. As for this piece of work, I am quite shocked at how many of you have read, followed, reviewed, etc. Especially for one chapter. So, thank you.**

**Oh, and I'm not a medical professional. (I feel like I might as well put that on my profile. As much as I beat up these characters. Oops.)**

* * *

"Bring him out of there. Get him to the infirmary," Gareth commanded. He had taken one step into the train car, borrowed a flashlight for all of two seconds, and made the call, stepping back outside.

Rick narrowed his eyes in a glare. He didn't like the thought of them taking Daryl off to who knows where. Didn't have a clue what they could be capable of, or why they were all locked in a boxcar. But he had to assume it was better than just leaving him.

The two men shuffled back into the car to haul Daryl off as Bob made a request:

"Maybe I could come with." He elaborated further, "I was a medic in the army. Do you guys have anyone who qualifies for something like this? You'll be in way over your heads, otherwise."

"And I suppose you know what's best, right?" There was a mocking tone in Gareth's voice.

"He can help," Sasha spoke up. "And I know we'd feel a lot better knowing Daryl's in good hands."

Gareth hesitantly nodded. He signaled for them to come on, Bob and his two men, along with Daryl. Bob had taken to Daryl's side and was about to pull him up when Rick interrupted.

"If he's going, I am too."

This actually brought a smile to Gareth's face as the two men protested that he stay. That he was a threat and he couldn't be trusted.

"Ringleader," Gareth acknowledged Rick. He threw his arms up at his sides, the same fake smile plastered on his face. "Why not? They say, the more the merrier."

Rick caught Michonne's stare boring into him, her eyes partially widened in shock, her brow furrowed in discontentment. He gave her an affirming nod that it would be okay. And without wasting anymore time, Rick took Daryl's other side and helped Bob support him.

As much as he wanted to attack Gareth and his two friends right then and there, he knew it was suicide. Knew it was a possibility there were others hidden in the shadows that could be watching, making sure they didn't get out of hand.

Knew there had to be another way to escape. One that didn't risk anyone's life.

Rick exchanged a glance with Bob before turning his attention back ahead of him, following Gareth. The two armed men had stayed behind with the boxcar. Gareth's order. And it made Rick want to jump him that much more, especially with his back to them, and as they turned down an alley and entered into a building.

"Awfully brave of you to lead the way," Rick pointed out. He observed everything he could as they walked along. Took note of how many turns they took, what doors they walked through. The candles and lanterns set up to light a path through the place. The letter B marked by some of the doors.

"Sometimes, us leaders have to do the work ourselves. Make sure it's done right. But I'm guessing you know all about that." Gareth stopped at the third door, the second one on the right, as he placed a hand on the handle and looked back at them. "Plus, I like to assume you're smart enough not to pull anything."

Gareth opened the door and ushered Rick and Bob to go first. Rick was surprised to see the room was fairly empty, minus the couple tables and two old hospital-like beds. Ones that looked like they had come from an insane asylum, straps to hold down wrists and ankles. Rick was hesitant, but with Bob's help, was able to get Daryl up and onto one of the beds.

"Gonna need a knife. Something sharp. And some kind of small tubing." Bob immediately started up with his list. He began to pull at Daryl's jacket and Rick took that as his cue to help lift Daryl up so Bob could get the clothing article off and out of the way. "And a glass of water."

"Is that all?" Gareth inquired.

Bob replied, "For now, yes."

"I'll see what I can do." Gareth retreated back to the only opening in the room and left without another word. Somehow, he seemed too civil. It put Rick on edge.

"Is this something you've done before? What you're about to do?" Rick questioned Bob now that they were alone. He kept his voice down regardless. Wanted to stay focused on the task at hand.

Bob rolled up his sleeves. Daryl's vest and jacket had been tossed aside for the moment as he began to work on Daryl's shirt.

"I've experienced a variety of things. But this specifically? Once."

"And how'd that work out?" Rick flicked his eyes over Bob's hands. The man seemed steady. Confident.

"Didn't." Bob frowned. "Guy was shot in the lung. Time wasn't on our side."

Rick shut his eyes and grabbed onto the side of the bed for support. He felt like he had just gotten Daryl back. He had just gotten _everyone_ back. "I was hoping for something a little more reassuring..."

"The reassuring part is that Daryl is still breathing. He's just unconscious because he's not getting enough oxygen. Which I can fix, with the right stuff."

The door swung open at Gareth's return as if on cue. He carried exactly what Bob had requested: a knife, some sort of clear plastic tube, and a glass of water.

"Everything is sterilized to the best of my ability. Who would have thought this little thing from a spray bottle would have come in handy." Gareth waved the tube in the air before setting it down on a table, along with the glass of water. He held the knife by the handle but flipped it in the air so that he caught it by the tip of the blade, making his way around the table and closer to Bob and Rick. He extended his arm out toward them, but it was Rick who closed the gap.

Rick stopped just in front of him. Locked eyes as Gareth looked to the knife and back to Rick, the slightest smirk curving the right side of his lips upward. It was a challenge.

Rick cautiously gripped the handle. His heart was racing in his chest at how easy it would be. He could most likely overpower Gareth. Gareth didn't seem like much, but he seemed to be the one calling the shots. All it would take is one thrust forward with the blade and their chances of escaping would soar through the roof.

However, Rick only placed his arm back down at his side with the knife. Even if he could kill Gareth that easily in a blocked off room, it still didn't provide a safe way out. And even if he and Bob were able to escape and make it to the others, or to their weapons, or just made a break for it, Daryl's life was at stake without the small surgery Bob had in mind. And Daryl's life wasn't worth any of it.

Rick brought the things back over to Bob and set them on a table that he had pulled over. He couldn't shake the feeling that he made the wrong decision, once again.

Bob's hand clasped his shoulder, bringing his attention to the man. "It'll be okay."

Rick barely nodded.

The room was silent from then on out. Gareth was propped up against the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Rick stood by in case Bob needed an extra set of hands after they were able to reposition Daryl onto his right side.

Bob pulled the side of Daryl's button up shirt aside instead of removing it. He pulled Daryl's left arm up and toward his own head so it was out of the way. He suggested, "You might want to hold his arm down."

Rick grabbed Daryl's wrist as Bob steadied the tip of the knife against Daryl's chest. He watched as Bob plunged the blade down between Daryl's ribs and cringed. Daryl's arm twitched, his eyes shut tight as the slightest whimper escaped from his throat. Rick held stronger to make sure Daryl didn't lash out too much.

It was once Bob inserted the tube into the wound, placing the other end into the glass of water, that Daryl sort of came back around. He coughed and sputtered, the clear tubing and water tinging red due to blood. Bob placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder, knowing the procedure had to be uncomfortable.

Rick dared to look over toward Gareth. The young man seemed rather amused. Maybe even impressed. Though he was still perched against the door.

"And so the Archer lives."

"He should be fine now. Probably just took a rough hit, might've bruised some ribs. This set up will help equal out the pressure around his lung so he can breathe a little easier," Bob explained.

Gareth pushed himself off the door and walked forward, hands clasped together in front of him. "That's great news, really. But to answer your earlier question... No, we don't have anyone here quite as qualified as yourself. Bravo." He turned to Rick. "Change of plans. Let's take a walk."

"Why?" Rick mulled over his choice of words before settling on the one.

"That wasn't a request," Gareth replied, stern.

"I'm not leaving him. Either of them."

"Let's let the nice Doctor do his work so Archer doesn't die on us. We wouldn't want his fragile little life to come to such an abrupt end, would we?"

Rick exchanged glances with Bob. He couldn't get much a of read. Just that Bob remained very calm about the whole situation. At least on the outside. Rick felt like he was slowly crumbling, himself.

Seeing no other option, he followed Gareth back out of the room and started down the hall beside him. If memory served him well, they were headed back the way they came.

"Not so much of a Ringleader without your circus."

Rick bit his tongue from saying anything back. And as they passed the metal cargo crates, he suddenly recalled hearing people screaming from inside them. But it was silent now. Whatever had happened to those people, they were gone. He knew he hadn't just imagined them. Because Daryl heard them too.

Rick feared for Daryl's life, and even Bob's, whether he cooperated or not. Nothing seemed to add up. All he knew was that he'd have to break everyone out of there before it was too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay in updating. I've thought about rewriting this/starting over. And then I've tried to think of all the possible ways this could go and narrow it down to one. Still not feeling very confident, unfortunately, but hopefully that'll change. **

* * *

The same boxcar with the red letter A was in sight once again as Rick was escorted to it. The two men were still standing guard close by. Upon noticing their apparent leader's return, they were already working the door open.

Before Rick could be forced back in, he turned to face Gareth. He grit his teeth as he spoke: "What about my friends?"

"Don't worry about them. You'll be reunited soon enough. Now, go." Gareth waved Rick forward. Rick hesitantly climbed up the steps and entered into the dark space. Gareth's voice carried over from his shoulder as he spoke to the two men, "Bring them some food. It's gonna be a long night."

Carl was immediately by Rick's side as he situated himself smack in the middle of the boxcar facing out. One of the men nodded at Gareth's words while the other gripped the handle of the door. And just when Rick finally thought they'd be left alone, Gareth smiled. Something that already proved to never be a good sign.

"Kid. Come here."

Rick defensively pushed Carl behind him as there was shifting among the car. "He's not going anywhere."

"Trust works both ways. Now, I didn't do anything funny or give you a reason to dislike me. In fact, I helped your friend. I could have left him to die. And we all know how that could have turned out." Gareth paused a moment before continuing, "I trusted you, it's time to return the favor."

Rick exchanged glances with Carl. There was an obvious tension in the air but nobody made a move on it. Everyone just remained quiet.

"Come on, Kid. I'm not gonna ask again."

Rick could see it in his son's eyes. The hurt, the fight. But it was the fear that he could read in his features that made him want to protest. Not Carl—not _now_. Not after those men. Rick wanted to do everything in his power to keep Carl there beside him. He placed a strong hand on his shoulder. Nodded to try and let him know it would be okay. But Carl maneuvered around him and it took everything Rick had to let him go. And as Carl reached the last step, the door was forced closed. Locked.

Immediately after, there was a hand on his own shoulder. He looked over to see Michonne. She didn't need to say anything. He understood.

"What happened out there? What'd he do?" Maggie questioned.

"Exactly what he said..." Rick stared straight ahead at the door. He had the opportunity to kill Gareth and end all of this. And he let it slip.

"But where are Bob and Daryl?" Sasha inquired. "Why didn't they come back with you?"

Rick couldn't bring himself to reply. His nerves were shot. Gareth had managed to separate them and take his son with hardly any effort. Maybe that was his plan; to set Rick on edge. He couldn't think straight. Just wanted them back. They were all trapped like rats. Like puppets, and Gareth was pulling the strings.

* * *

"How old are you, Kid?"

Carl walked along beside Gareth for a good while in silence before the man led him back out to where everyone had been seated for dinner earlier. The place was empty now, clear of all life. Gareth sat down on one side and offered the seat across from him. Carl took it.

He replied, "Does it matter?"

"Guess not." Gareth laced his fingers together in front of him, hands resting on the table. "Were you more of the comic, video game type, or was sports more your thing?"

Carl only stared at him, brows drawn together, and eyes narrowed.

"Okay, not much for small talk..."

"What's your plan?" Carl reciprocated Gareth's actions, resting his hands on the table too.

"Straight to the point. I like you." Gareth smiled. He placed his palms down flat and leaned back, contemplating, before he cleared his throat and got back on his feet. The look he had provided, eyes locking onto Carl, was enough to let him know to follow.

Carl was once again hesitant having just sat down but a couple of minutes ago and now being on the move again. He didn't think too much of it since he was basically telling Gareth to get to the point, hoping that still being quite young could make up for any remark Gareth didn't like. He was also well aware that it wouldn't necessarily guarantee his safety.

As Carl got back on his feet and made to follow, he spotted something on a different table. Not too far from the grill. He had been looking for something that could prove to be useful, having been freed from the boxcar. Now he was certain he had found it. It was just a matter of finding the right moment.

Carl quickly snatched the small blade and stuffed it up his sleeve, concealed. He made sure his footfalls were silent as he walked a bit off the path before returning behind Gareth. A surge of regret hit him right after. But not for wanting to attack. No, Carl felt regret for if he had been caught. For all he knew, someone else was watching. Or maybe Gareth caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eyes. The thought made him sweat but he remained calm and collected on the outside as much as possible.

When they came to a stop just outside a door and Gareth ushered him to go first, he felt his stomach drop.

Carl's eyes briefly flickered over his expression before he proceeded forward. It was the room filled with candles, names sprawled across the floor. The writing on the walls.

The door shut harder than expected and Carl jumped.

"Bet the slightest bit of curiosity has got the best of you," Gareth started. He walked passed Carl, hands shoved in the pockets of his worn jeans.

"I guess." Carl kept a guarded watch on him, unsure of how to read the man.

"Relax. You don't have any reason to be so tense." Gareth's voice trailed off. He stopped at a particular spot, staring down at the ground. He suddenly seemed lost, void of emotion.

Carl cautiously took a step forward to read the name by his feet: Michael Ellwood. Stone Mountain, GA was written beneath it, an acoustic guitar to the side. "Who's Michael?"

"Michael was my brother. Close to your age," Gareth replied.

Carl noticed he spoke in past tense, meaning Michael was most likely dead already. That's when Carl realized the pointless questions Gareth had asked previously had nothing to do with anything. Gareth had only been trying to have a normal conversation. And the tense feeling in Carl's shoulders eased up slightly.

If he played this right, maybe he could outwit him.

"What happened?"

"What always happens. You get stabbed in the back." Gareth raised his eyes to meet Carl's. "We let a group in, hoping to help, and for them to help in return. They deceived us, had it all planned out. Ended up making off with a lot of our supplies. All these names are people who lived here."

"Not everyone's like that," Carl tried. "Not everyone is a bad guy."

"No, but it's always better to be safe than sorry." A smirk crossed Gareth's lips again. "They didn't all get away that day."

Gareth started to slightly pace as he told the story:

"We were able to capture four of them. Locked them up in one of the cargo crates as punishment. It was decided that we'd leave them alone. No food, no water. Nothing.

They screamed and begged to be forgiven. _Cried_ to be let out. With each day that passed, they grew quieter. By the third day, it had become silent.

We decided to check on them. Thought maybe they had died. But it turns out... Anything is possible if you're desperate enough. After all, it is human instinct to live."

Carl's stomach roiled at the thought. "They—they…"

"They did what needed to be done. And I, for one, commend them. Takes a lot of guts, you could say."

Carl grimaced with a shiver. He couldn't bring himself to say the word. He didn't even want to think about it. How could someone do that?

"I thought maybe I could talk to you. Kids are pretty understanding. Pretty convincing, too. Then maybe you'd pass along the word and we could all go our merry way. But things have already escalated too far. Your group doesn't trust mine, and nothing's gonna change that. Shots have been fired and another of our group is dead."

Before Carl could try and find the words to convince Gareth otherwise, Gareth continued, stopping with his back facing him.

"I suggest you hand over the knife. Things will go a lot smoother—"

Carl released the knife to slip down from out of his sleeve and gripped the handle. His heart was racing as he watched Gareth. He couldn't back down now. His cover was blown. And with Gareth's back to him, he dove.

Gareth had turned around, tried to evade, but to no avail. A brief yelp of pain had escaped from his throat. The blade dug pretty deep into his shoulder before he threw Carl off, griping his wrist and slamming his knee upward, nailing Carl in the chest. Carl recoiled from the hit as he tried to regain the breath that had been driven from his lungs. He didn't have time to counter Gareth's next move, the knife having been pulled free, and the butt of the handle being rammed into the side of his face.

Carl stumbled back, his right hand shot to where the blunt object had made impact and caused his head to snap uncomfortably to the left. His head immediately throbbed and his vision blurred. Gareth had practically backhanded him to the temple with the butt of the knife.

He vaguely made out Gareth's form looming in front of him, bloodied knife in hand, his fist visibly shaking, before his own legs suddenly gave out from under him, collapsing to the floor unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

Muted conversations droned on in the background of Rick's thoughts the moment his son had been taken from him. He spent those long minutes thinking through every little detail there was possible—what he remembered about the place while he was outside, if there were any breaches that existed or could be made to the boxcar. But he was missing the most obvious one.

"Food's here."

There was a rattle outside the door as someone unfastened it. It squealed its way down the worn tracks as the darkness from outside filtered in to the already dark confinement.

Rick slightly cocked his head to the side, staring the man down. He was alone—armed, but alone. There was a plate of some sort of mystery meat and a pitcher of what appeared to be fixed up powdered milk. He had to put his hunger behind him though because this was the only other opportunity he was going to get, and he wasn't going to let it slip too.

Rick lunged forward at the man, the food long forgotten as it instantly crashed to the ground. He didn't think anything else through. He just knew it had to be done.

The two tumbled out of the boxcar tangled together as Rick fought for control over the assault rifle strapped across the man's chest. He was thrown onto his back shortly after, losing the fight as the man pinned him down by his biceps, waist straddled.

"Don't kill him!" a voice warned off to the right. Rick glimpsed over to see a second man pull his own gun as he walked to cover the entrance of the boxcar, keeping the others inside.

"What in the actual _fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

Rick ignored him as he fumbled yet again for the weapon as it dangled freely just in front of him. He was able to barely grip the stock and pull the trigger, bullets spraying off to the right blindly in an attempt to hit the second man.

The rest happened so fast, Rick didn't have time to comprehend it.

There was a harsh blow to his ribs as the assault rifle had been slammed downward. Then the weight bearing down on him was gone.

Rick crossed an arm over his side while he brought himself to a sitting position. Abraham held the gun from the second man, who was now out cold on the pavement, and had it targeted at the man who had wrestled Rick to the ground. The others were exiting from the boxcar as the man forfeited his own weapon with shaky arms, the rifle skidding across and closest to Rick.

"You're either real ballsy or real stupid," Abraham barked at Rick. The Terminus man shuffled around on the ground, trying to get back on his feet while the towering ginger's attention had been averted to Rick. But Abraham turned back to him. "Did I say you could move?"

"It got us out, didn't it?" Rick muttered. He already regretted pulling that trigger. That gunfire could be heard for miles. It must have alerted the others.

"You won't get away with this—we got snipers," the man stuttered. "The others'll come."

Rick swiped the assault rifle and took it for his own. He glowered. Didn't believe him, but played along. "How useful you think they'll be in the dark?"

There was a slight banging coming from behind him as he turned to see Glenn and Eugene toss the unconscious guy into the boxcar, closing it up. And before anyone could say or do anything else, a loud rumble ripped through the air, the sky taking on a brief flash of light. Only it wasn't lightning. Something was going on somewhere on the other side of Terminus.

Rick marched straight for the man now held hostage on the ground. The rifle was pointed right between his eyes, words leaving Rick's mouth through gritted teeth: "Where are our people?" He prayed that explosion had nothing to do with any of the three becoming injured, or worse.

"Okay, okay!" The man's arms shot up into the air in surrender. "I can take you to them. Not a problem. Just… Can I get up?"

Abraham gripped him by his shirt and hauled him to his feet like it was nothing. He tossed him forward, jabbing the gun at his back. "Let's get a move on, sweetheart."

"Rick," Michonne spoke up. "I'm gonna take the others outside the fence. We'll grab the bag and meet up."

Rick nodded. He looked to Abraham, then down at the gun in his hands. Passed it off to her. "Take it. You might need it."

There was no protest, seeing that Abraham was loaded and more than capable of taking someone down barehanded if need be. And with that, Rick followed him and the hostage deeper into Terminus while the others headed for the fence.

The duo walked in silence, trailing behind the Terminus man to keep him in line. There was an orange glow reaching up toward the sky, fire blending with the black of night. Screams could be heard and it was assumed that whatever was going on over there, everyone was too busy to have cared about the gunfire from Rick.

"If that back there was any indication of how you wield a gun, it was a smart move handing it off," Abraham remarked.

Rick narrowed his eyes. "Don't patronize me. We're on the same side here."

"Lighten up." Abraham poked the muzzle of the assault rifle into their hostage's back to get him moving faster. "Mostly kidding. Caused enough of a distraction to disarm the other guy. So, in other words, your stupidity saved us."

"There. They're in that shipping crate over there."

Rick's thoughts were interrupted by the man's outburst. He was partially thankful for it though. It was best that he bite his tongue. At least until they got the others and their supplies. Then whether these few new people were staying or not could be worked out.

"Open it." Rick grabbed him by the arm and shoved him forward now, taking the initiative. The sound of gunfire erupted from wherever the fire was coming from, multiple people yelling still audible. They were either under attack by another group or fending off walkers. The prior seemed much more plausible.

The man unfastened the metal contraption of a door and stepped back, allowing his captors to step forth. Rick felt uneasy, unable to see into the length of the dark shipping crate while Abraham raised his weapon.

Then there was rushed footsteps running at them and a small body collided into Rick.

"Carl," he said his name almost in shock as he wrapped his arms around him, relieved that he was alive and okay. He quickly pushed him back at arm's length to look him over, noting there was blood on his hands and there appeared to be swelling by his left eye.

Before Rick could ask, a gunshot rang out from behind him. He swiveled on his heels, protectively covering his son as he took in the image.

"He was about to shoot you." Rosita rested her arms back down at her sides, pistol in her right hand.

Rick then noticed the small firearm the man must have had hidden in his jacket. It skidded a bit away from his lifeless hand after Rosita planted a well aimed shot to the back of his skull. Glenn and Sasha were behind her.

"Rick."

He recognized the voice, and when he turned around and saw Bob and Daryl, he smiled. "You're okay." He spoke the words as if he didn't believe his eyes. Daryl still seemed a bit out of it, Bob partially helping to support him, but he was conscious. And that was the main thing.

"We're getting our stuff back and we're getting the hell out of here," Glenn spoke up. He continued, "Maggie, Tara, Michonne, and Eugene stayed back to make sure we have a way out."

"Then that settles it. You three get back to the others." Rick referred to Daryl, Bob, and Carl. The further they were from Terminus, the better.

"But..." Carl started.

"Bob and Daryl might need some cover fire. That's where you come in." Rick walked over to the discarded pistol and picked it up, handing it off to his son. As much as he wanted to keep him by his side, it was safer with the others.

"I trust that Eugene is in capable hands?" Abraham questioned Rosita.

She nodded. "Very capable."

Rick paid no mind to their small talk as he sent Carl off with one of the most capable men he knew himself. What was so special about Eugene, he didn't know. And at this particular moment, he didn't care.

Rick took his revolver back as Glenn handed it off to him, having grabbed it from the bag outside the fence. He was ready to put an end to all of this. "Let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hooray for a bit longer of an update! I really need to stop staying up so late... Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, etc. Keeps me motivated. Hopefully y'all are still enjoying it. Though I must admit, I don't really have an actual ending in mind (at the moment), there's still some action to come. (And yes, I've changed my avatar to Gareth. Mmhmm.)**

* * *

Carl kept his head on a swivel, his eyes searching the dark for any sign of movement. He tried to remain focused on the task but all he could really think about was the fact that he had attacked Gareth. He had actually _injured_ the man. And though he wanted to tell his dad about it, that they now had the upper hand, he stopped himself just short of sharing the information. Because the thought suddenly made him feel ill.

_I'm a monster_.

He didn't feel regret for attacking him. Really, he didn't feel anything. And that was the worst part.

"Carl—"

Bob's voice cut through to him. Carl shook free of the thoughts and looked over to see a walker staggering towards them. With Bob and Daryl being unarmed—furthermore, Daryl being injured from the earlier attack—it left the job up to Carl. He raised the firearm and pulled the trigger, but the bullet only lodged itself into its neck. The second try he was able to nail it in the head.

His heart was racing and his mouth suddenly felt dry. Neither Daryl nor Bob said anything about the missed shot. The wasted bullet. The way his hands shook with uncertainty out of the blue.

But they were met by Maggie shortly after. She had run through a part in the fence they had knocked down so that it was easier to make a clean getaway. Michonne took a few steps forward before Tara had ended up joining Maggie's side.

Carl walked passed them and made his way to Michonne. He was met by her embrace, her arms enclosing around him in a hug, happy to see him okay. Eugene watched momentarily in silence before he too decided to join the others, leaving Carl alone with her.

Michonne slightly stooped down to get a better look at his face, brow furrowed. "What happened here?" She gestured toward the oncoming bruise of where Gareth had hit him.

Carl's eyes flitted to the ground. Not even his dad was able to ask him what had happened. Maybe because he was afraid to know the answer. "Gareth's hurt. I stabbed him with a knife I found, but he ended up knocking me out."

"But you're okay?"

Carl gazed up to meet Michonne's stare. He nodded.

"Did you tell the others? Your dad?"

"I couldn't. I… I was afraid."

"This is good news, though. If he's injured, that's a head start in our book." Michonne smiled. "We just have to make sure it stays that way."

There was a sudden crunch of leaves and brush not too far behind them. Carl immediately raised the pistol again as Michonne pivoted on her heels to face the imminent danger. Her arm shot out to block Carl, slightly pulling him behind her though she was unarmed herself. At least to Carl's knowledge she was. The others weren't quite aware of their newcomers, but they would be soon enough.

* * *

"Get down!" Rick hollered out to the group as he ran for cover behind a car that was long out of commission. He popped up long enough to fire off a couple rounds and hit one of the men shooting back. The bullet entered through the man's shoulder and caused him to hit the ground.

Glenn ran in and kicked the gun away from his limp form, curled in agony at the single gunshot wound. "You think he'll work?"

"The way he's crying like a little bitch? Doubt it," Abraham scoffed.

"Well, we need someone to lead the way. This place is too big to try and find where they stashed all our stuff." Rosita came out from her hiding spot behind a large wooden crate, Sasha by her side.

Rick scanned their surroundings for anyone else lurking in the shadows while the others debated. He caught a brief movement of what looked like a figure running behind another wooden crate. Cautiously, he readied the Colt as he slowly approached. Just as he was about to reach the box, Glenn called out his name in a questioning manner. Rick waved back at him dismissively so that he kept the noise down.

As soon as Rick rounded the corner of the rather large crate, revolver raised, he was met with a glassy eyed stare of a young woman. She looked to be about in her mid to late twenties. Scared to death. One arm was raised with a pistol to meet Rick's stance, only she was shaking.

"Put the gun down. There's no need to shoot," Rick tried to coax her. "I won't fire if you won't fire."

Her eyes darted from her shaking hand to Rick and back. She wiped at her eye with her free hand before she carefully lowered her weapon all while Rick closed the gap between them. He griped her pistol by the barrel and easily pulled it from her hand.

Glenn, Sasha, Rosita, and Abraham were behind him in a flash after he disappeared behind the crate.

"Don't mind them. They won't hurt you either. We just want our stuff and we'll leave. You think you can help us with that?" Rick offered. He felt like he was talking to a kicked puppy, the tone of voice he was using. But in his defense, she reflected that.

The young woman nodded. "I can d-do that," she stammered, wiping at her eyes again.

She started to walk toward one of the buildings and it suddenly occurred to Rick that it could be a trap. She could be leading them right into the heart of armed men just waiting to rip them to shreds with bullets. But it seemed unlikely though. There was still a raging fire on the other side and muffled shouts that sounded much clearer as they grew closer. Something about trying to get everything back under control. Terminus was too busy with that to worry about Rick and the others.

It was once they were starting to get uncomfortably close to where the flames were lapping up every possible thing it could, the glow partially illuminating them, that Rick felt uneasy.

"Our _stuff_," Rick hissed towards her ear as a reminder.

She nodded fervently. "It's close. Through that door down there."

Rick noticed the door she was speaking of a few feet away. The heat of the fire started to distract him though, turning his attention to it to make sure it wasn't coming any closer. Then there was a loud crack of thunder from above. If things weren't already a hell of a mess, he had a feeling it was about to become even worse.

"There! They've escaped!"

A small barrage of bullets whirled passed them snapping Rick out of his slight daze. He ducked behind another destroyed car, the bits of remaining glass in the windows shattering as the gunfire rained on. He turned to make sure everyone else was okay as they all nodded back at him. If Abraham hadn't grabbed the woman at the very last second, it was likely she would have been fatally shot.

"I don't suppose there's a shortcut," Rick muttered.

"Yeah, we go through them." Glenn carefully poked his head around the edge of the bumper to see where he was shooting. He was able to take down one of them if a scream of pain was any indication.

Rick slowly popped his head up and looked through the nonexistence driver's side window of the car. There weren't many of them on this side. They could easily take them.

"I hope you're right about this room," he directed his words to the woman. One well aimed shot brought another of the men down before he rounded the car, slightly hunched over to make himself a smaller target. "Go, go, go!" He waved Rosita, Abraham, Sasha, and Glenn on, leaving the woman there in cover.

The only thing Rick registered afterward was that they had all safely made it to the room, the door shut behind them. Nobody was there to surprise them. Furthermore, just like the woman said, all their stuff was there.

"Grab what you can. Get the most important things first. Remember we'll still have to fight our way out of here," Rick reminded them as they scurried through the room, collecting what they could. He made sure to grab Michonne's katana, slipping the strap over his head and allowing it to rest across his back. Next was Daryl's crossbow. If nothing else, those two items were the most important to him, along with their knives.

Glenn was searching the room high and low while the others threw backpacks on and snatched up their discarded weapons. He ultimately grabbed a pack himself, but he seemed almost panicked.

"Glenn?" Sasha questioned, having noticed too.

"The pocket watch. Hershel's pocket watch. Where is it?" Glenn turned to Rick, desperate. It then occurred to Rick that Glenn wasn't even there when the Governor had rolled up on his tank. And his heart suddenly ached that much more.

"I don't know. Some guy had it when we first got here." Rick frowned. "The guy was shot and killed before we were taken to that rail car."

Glenn huffed in defeat, hands resting on his waist. He vaguely nodded in understanding as he sighed, the bit of air rushing out in almost a whimper. "This sucks."

"Not as much as it's about to," Abraham spoke up. "That door's our only way out, and unless we get a move on now, we'll be dealing with an even bigger shit storm."

"He's right," Sasha agreed. "I'm sorry, Glenn, but we have to go."

"I know, I know." Glenn picked up an assault rifle from off the ground. He looked to Rick and Rick nodded. If they had the time, safety, and light to search for that pocket watch, Rick would stay for however long they needed to until they found it. But that wasn't the case. Rick was just glad Glenn understood that.

Abraham threw the door open once everyone was ready, gun blazing. The girls followed behind him as Rick brought up the rear with Glenn. With Abraham taking the lead, it didn't leave much for the others but to keep an eye out.

As they made their way back through Terminus and back to the fence line where they had left the others, they were met with a sporadic handful of walkers—assumedly having been attracted to all the noise and fire. Momentarily, it was hard to tell what was human and what was undead.

The others were soon in sight though. Rick pushed on, overall trying to ignore the gunfire he could still hear from somewhere behind him. The people of Terminus were most likely fighting off walkers now more than anything, all while trying to fight to keep the place.

Then a scream broke through to him. Maggie's scream. It took Rick a moment to realize she was screaming Glenn's name, and even longer to realize that Glenn wasn't right beside him like he had been.

Rick barely caught Maggie by the arms before she could run passed him. The momentum caused Rick to slightly spin and therefore, he was able to look behind him.

"I saw him go down," Maggie began, nervously tucking some hair behind an ear. Her eyes were searching the dark, anxiety having gotten the best of her. "What if he was shot? What if a walker got him?"

"Stay here," Rick commanded. He didn't even bother with any sort of exchange with anyone. Didn't look around to make sure everyone else was okay. Didn't ask anyone to back him up. He just assumed, and he knew he had to get Glenn.

Rick ventured a little ways back into Terminus. The cluster of walkers was growing larger, but for the most part, he was able to blend in. They were too distracted with reaching all the commotion from further down.

"Glenn—" He finally spotted him. Glenn was on the ground, seated with his back propped up against a demolished car. Rick dashed over to him to see what the problem was, surprised the walkers weren't going after him—being a stationary target and all.

"Got hit a while back. Didn't really notice until I got hung up on a walker…" Glenn spoke through panted breaths.

Rick took notice of the way Glenn was sitting. Both legs were bent at the knee but one was resting on the ground, the other brought closer to his chest. "Your leg?"

Glenn nodded. "Hurts to put too much pressure on it. I think the bullet's still in there."

Rick offered him a hand up and he took it. He took on half of Glenn's weight as he tried to keep the younger man balanced. And while they were focused on just trying to walk, they were greeted by a walker that had stumbled off course from the others, wobbling towards them.

A single gunshot rang out just as the body dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap.

"I'm really beginning to question how you people are still alive after all this time." Abraham shook his head. He took Glenn's other side to further assist him in walking.

Rick decided it best to bite his tongue again. No point in arguing. Abraham didn't have a clue what they'd all been through. Just as well, they didn't have a clue what Abraham and his small crew had been through.

How he didn't see it sooner, he wasn't sure; he was torn from his thoughts when he realized they had more company waiting for them then he remembered.


End file.
